In Times of Trouble
by The Lieutenant Sarcasm
Summary: A series of drabbles that follow Hayley, Alistair and their companions as they battle the blight and each other. Companion piece to Unspoken.  But hey, just because we know the destination doesn't mean we can't enjoy the journey.  Please R&R
1. Special cheese

**A/N: Just a small one shot to start us off. I've no beta so all mistakes are my own.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon age or any of it's wonderful characters. **

"I'm not doing it Alistair."

"Pleeeaasse" he whined in return, holding the object closer to her face.

Hayley stepped back in disgust and shot him a warning glare. He'd told her earlier that he had a special treat for her when they made camp. She had no notion that his idea of a special treat was a slow and painful death.

"Alistair, I don't even eat normal cheese. There's no way I'm eating _that_." she said nodding towards the blue veined monstrosity he was wielding like a sword.

"But it's special cheese! I use to eat it all the time as a boy in Redcliff." he continued with a cheesy grin. "And I turned out fine."

That was true: Alistair had turned out _damn_ fine.

Still. It was no reason to risk her health. It was a Blight after all: there were easier, less painful ways to die.

"Just try it." he urged. "Just one tiny little bite."

"Em, no. Not right now. Why don't you wrap it back up and we'll have it after dinner?"

That was a lie. She had no intention of eating it after dinner, or ever. It looked like puke and it smelled no better. It could quiet possibly be some of the cheese that Alistair had as a boy.

Oh well. If worse came to worse she could accidently throw it on the fire. Or use it as a weapon. It was bound to kill _something._

"Yeah ok." Alistair agreed happily, bouncing towards his pack to rewrap it in its light pink wrapper.

Hayley wondered over to the central campfire, where Morrigan was preparing the evening meal.

"I hope you're not actually planning on eating that." Morrigan said without looking up from the rabbit she was skinning. "It smells little better than the blonde idiot himself."

"Hey!" Alistair complained, walking up beside them. "I can hear you, you know."

"Really?" the witch returned snidely. "I never assumed that you could not. I was just under the impression that you didn't understand words with more than one syllable."

"Real mature Morrigan." he replied, scowling. "Did you get your wonderful people skills from your mother?"

"My mother? What does my mother have to do with anything?"

"Oh nothing. She just seemed like such a social butterfly when we met her."

Hayley rolled her eyes at their usual bickering; casting her eyes around the camp in search of her loyal Mabari.

"Eh, what's Reuben eating?" she asked before her eyes widened in recognition.

She and Alistair looked at each other in horror.

Reuben was lying flat on all fours beside Alistair's pack; surrounded in tiny bits of pink paper.

"My cheese!"

"No, no, _no_ Reuben!" Hayley screamed as she ran towards him and grabbed his collar. "Spit it out!"

She pried open his jaws only to realize it was a lost cause. The cheese was long gone. She turned the full force of her glare on the heart broken templar staring at her dog in disbelief

"If my dog dies Alistair I will _never_ forgive you."

Alistair spluttered pathetically in reply.

"T'would serve your fool dog right," Morrigan began haughtily. "A painful death would teach him not to eat things that do not belong to him."

"I don't see why you're complaining." Alistair said, looking up briefly at the witch. "At least you got yours back."

Morrigan glared angrily at the ex-templar before ignoring him in favor of the rabbit: attacking it with renewed vigor.

Hayley didn't blame her. It had not been a good day in camp when Reuben finally decided to return Morrigan's recently bought cloak. Hayley didn't even begrudge her companion for chasing her dog into the forest as a bear: especially since he tried to return the cloak to its owner by dropping it in her lap. It was something that Hayley had silently vowed never to bring up.

"She's going to spit in my food isn't she?" Alistair asked, resigned.

"I would consider yourself very lucky if that was all she did."

**Review please :)**

**-The Lieutenant Sarcasm**


	2. Gift Giving

He could do this. _He could._ He'd just walk right up to her and hand it to her. A pretty flower for a pretty lady: simple as. That's what he would do.

But she wasn't just a pretty lady, she was a _Cousland_. And whilst he wasn't exactly farmer Joe, he was raised in a stable, not a castle. She was practically royalty! (He was actual royalty if you thought about it, but that was beside the point). She was probably use to men throwing themselves at her with riches and ponies.

And here was Alistair pacing back and forward with the rose he'd been carrying around since Lothering hidden in his hand.

_For Maker sake man, just do it! Just walk up, drop the flower in her hand and run away. _He could do that. No problem. He was _Alistair_, he fought _darkspawn_. Those other men had nothing on him, with their ponies and their castles. See how much help they would be during a blight; their ponies would die and their castles would burn. Not Alistair though, oh no. He'd fight the darkspawn, and he'd do it for _her_. But he couldn't tell her that, because the thought of her rejecting him_, laughing at him_, when he laid himself bare made him feel physically sick. She wouldn't do that though, or would she? Morrigan would. Morrigan would probably set him on fire when she did it too. _That bitch._

Hayley was nothing like Morrigan though; she was sweet, and kind, and funny, and she laughed at all his jokes; even when they weren't funny. She wouldn't reject him; or she wouldn't set fire to him when she did it.

Alistair look down at the rose in his hand; softly pressed between a folded piece of cloth. It was still red; still beautiful. _Like her. _ He may not be able to tell her just yet what she meant to him but he would give her this rose and she would know. Women took meaning from senseless gestures all the time, or so the Wardens had told him. _She'll get it_.

Confidence renewed, Alistair looked up at the object of his affections; Leliana was making her way across the camp; away from Hayley and towards him, grinning knowingly.

_C'mon, now's your chance! _He'd been waiting what felt like forever for Hayley and Leliana to stop talking, but that Bard just went on, and on, and on. She did make Hayley smile though; she had a nice smile. He didn't mind waiting too much if she was smiling.

"Just tell her how you feel," Leliana whispered softly in his ear when she reached him. "This is a piece of cake compared to what you usually do, no?"

"Yeah." He replied gratefully, "Piece of cake. Thanks."

He could do this. Gathering his courage he made his way over to Hayley_. Oh Maker, my hands are sweaty. When did my hands get sweaty?_ It was too late for him to go back though. She looked up from the fire as he approached.

"Hey Alistair." She greeted him amusedly, "How's it goin?"

Oh no, she'd definitely noticed him staring like some creepy...stalker. _How embarrassing_.

"Here." He said _shoving_ it at her. "I got this for you."

"Oh," she replied; looking from the cloth in her hands to his face quizzically. "Cloth. That's very...kind of you Alistair. Thank you very much."

"Wait, no." He looked down in her hands; his face scrunched up in confusion. There was no flower. Where was his flower? Andraste's flaming knickers, he'd just handed her _cloth. _

He wanted to _die_.

"There was a flower!" he said, frantically swinging around scouring the ground between where he currently was and where Leliana and Zevran now sat speaking quietly across the camp. He couldn't see it. "I had a rose! I've had it since Lothering and I've been trying to give it to you for _weeks_, and now it's just disappeared." He could feel himself beginning to panic, and all the while Hayley stared up at him with that amused, slightly confused grin of hers. "I had a plan! I was just goina give you the rose and you'd understand what it meant, cause you're a woman and you seem like you'd get it, what you mean to me." He let out a frustrated sigh; _I'm not doing this right._ " Maker I'm doing this _wrong_." _Why am I such an idiot?_

He was pulled from his inner turmoil by her soft, warm lips pressing briefly to his; telling him quietly, without words, that she felt the same.

He looked down at her in shock as she stared up at him confidently.

"I get it Alistair," she told him quietly her hand coming up to lie gently against his cheek. "I actually got it before you spent half an hour trying to find the confidence to come over here. I thought sending Leliana over might have helped."

"It's just, I've...I've never done this before, I've...never _felt_ this before," he admitted quietly; leaning his forehead down to touch hers.

"It's ok," she replied softly, "we can take things as slow as you need. No pressure. I'm not going anywhere Alistair."

Maker she was perfect, _this_ was perfect. More so because he didn't need the rose after all, he managed to tell her how he felt all on his own.

Now only if he could find out where it went.

**A/N: Anyone guess what happened to it? **

**So, yeah, this is me back. Had a pretty long break, but my old laptop broke and it had a few chapters done out on it which I lost. That added to the fact I didn't get any reviews last chapter kind put me off writing for a while. But I'm back now and will hopefully get more chapters out when the inspiration strikes. I'll probably be focusing more on my other story **_**Noble Intentions **_**truth be told. So, leave me a review and let me know what you think; who knows, inspiration just might strike more often.**

**-The Lieutenant Sarcasm**


	3. Morning Routines

**So, here's the next one. I was goina wait till today to put it up anyway (it's my birthday!), but I actually just finished it. I hope you all enjoy...**

67,_ 68, 69, up, down, up, down._

Alistair went through the motions; back straight, palms flat against the moist grass beneath him.

_74, 75, 76._

His internal count continued, and his pace did not slow, despite the heavy chainmail weighing him down. This was a routine he was well use to; it had been drilled into him during his templar training – he had struggled to do 10 push ups with _light_ chainmail on back then. He was only slightly embarrassed about it now.

_81, 82, 83._

He ignored the sweat on his brow, and the ache in his arms; focusing solely on counting. Or he tried to at least. If working out in the morning was his daily routine, Hayley had one of her own; she would lean casually against the nearest object – be it a boulder, a tree, or _Sten_ – and shamelessly watch him. She even kept count. It was only kind of really distracting.

Last night they had camped at the base of a small 20 foot cliff. The area was perfect; the cliff kept most of the wind off the tents – which were huddled together at its base – and the grassy ground had proved to be a nice layer between them and the hard earth. There was even a small stream nearby so he'd be able to wash up when he was done. They would definitely be staying here on their way back from Denerim.

_94, 95, 95._

_Keep going. Don't look up. _ Of course that caused him to take a quick peek at the object of his affections; Hayley was leaning casually against the side of the cliff, one arm crossed over the other and smirking whilst she silently mouthed along with his internal counting. Her brown hair was in its usual braid and her green eyes were looking mischievously from him to Zevran.

_Ah, Zevran. 103, 104, 105_. He almost forgot about him. Zevran had gotten into a routine of his own; he would lean just as casually beside Hayley, just as he was currently, and leer at him. His eyes said things that Alistair _never_ wanted to hear. The only exception was when Hayley was forced to lean against Sten; he flat out refused to let the elf near him, and had swiftly stepped to the side – causing Zevran to fall – the first and only time he had tried.

"Zev, if you admire Alistair's technique so much, you could always join him." Hayley said, inclining her head in the elfs direction and offering him an innocent smile. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind going slow for you."

"In truth, dear Warden, it is not his technique I was admiring. However, if it is admirable technique you have been searching for, well then look no further! All you have to do is accompany me to my tent."

Hayley looked at him dryly, "How could I possibly refuse such a selfless and romantic offer? You're such a giver."

"Yes, yes. I know."Zevran replied, sighing dramatically; casually inspecting his nails, "I'm a hero really. I mean, to be cast such an ugly lot in life and then to rise above it. To seek out better, and nobler things. Some would say it's inspirational."

"Yes, quite true" Hayley replied, humouring him, "However, your heroism is slightly muted by the fact that you started out trying to kill us all, and your 'act of heroism' is actually just you trying to sleep with me."

"Ah, my dearest Warden, I would hold none of my _many_ accomplishments higher in my heart, as I would that one."

Why did they have to discuss this when they were _right_ beside him? Damn it, what number was he on? _158? 159? 160?_

"As truly tempting as it sounds," she continued, "I think I'll pass this time. Maker knows what you might have picked up over the years."

Zevran brought one hand to his breast; feigning grave insult, "My dear lady, you wound me! I, your humble servant, offer to provide a _service_, and you hurt me so! I don't think I have been so insulted since Cucio accused me of having ill advised relations with a nug. It was all filthy lies of course - in fact it was a ploy to cover up his _own_ relations with her." He paused to sigh sadly, "Poor Mrs Fantastico was never the same."

Alistair didn't have words for how messed up that was. Even Halyley didn't know what to say to that.

"I worry for your people Zevran, I really do," she replied after a lengthly pause.

"And by 'my people' you mean what, exactly? Antivans? Assassins? Or perhaps, you are referring to ridiculously handsome elves, with exotic accents, and a devilish wit?"

"Yes, all of the above, clearly. It's so nice to see you don't have a complex."

"Ah, my dear, going through life with such rugged good looks is no easy feat, I assure you. People are constantly vying for my attention, buying me shiny things, and trying to sleep with me. It's exhausting! If only the maker had thought to bless me, with a face as plain as Alistair's."

_Heyyy, uncalled for. _Did they realise he could hear them? And his face wasn't _plain_. Infact, he would go so far as to say he had a _nice_ face. A kingly face even. Now if only he could pause for a minute and wipe the sweat and dirt off of it.

"Alistair's face is hardly plain. I happen to quite like it."

"A-ha! So, you like his face, do you. You are interested in our resident Templar? I knew there was a reason you wouldn't sleep with me, and here it is!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Zevran."

"I didn't jump. I took a tiny step and there conclusions were. I am quite the catch, I must say, and to turn this down," he said, running both of his hands down his torso, "must take enormous amounts of self control, not to mention, ungodly willpower. Gained perhaps, from the knowledge that you had another 'fish' as it were. One with manyly shoulders, and bulging biceps. It explains why you watch him with such passion, such longing-"

"And I am officially leaving this conversation." she replied as she pushed off the wall. "We hit the road again in an hour, so be ready. Oh, and Alistair, you just hit 200."

_Well that's just typical, _Alistair thought as he pushed himself up onto his feet, _I want them to stop talking, and they have their conversation right beside my face, but as soon as I _want_ to hear what she'd say, she has better things to do._

"Ahh, the things I could do to her." Zevran said wistfully, watching Hayley walk over to pack away her tent. At Alistair's indignant squawk, he continued, "Do not be jealous, mi amico. I would happily do them to you as well."_  
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Well that was Alistairs que to _run the hell away_.

He coughed quickly into his fist, to try to hide the colour in his cheeks. "Yes, well. I'm just going to go and...yes. Over there."

"Or if you would prefer," Zevran continued hastily to Alistairs retreating form, "I could simply help you get out of that nasty chainmail, or wash the sweat from your- and now I am clearly talking to myself."

**Soooo, good, bad, or simply meh?**

**Let me know what you think, even if it's just to offer up some constructive criticism or to point out a mistake.  
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**Should have the next one up within the week, hopefully. No promises though...  
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**-The Lieutenant Sarcasm  
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	4. Religious Belief

**A/N: It's a little later than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

She was not in the mood for this. She was so not in the mood for this, that there weren't even words. They had been marching along muddy roads for _days_, in the_ rain_, and it seemed that the closer they got to their target, the colder it got; which would make sense since there target was situated on the _Frostback Mountains_. She was not built for this weather, and she was pretty sure that sooner or later toes were going to fall off. Or maybe an ear. Zevran though, kind soul that he was, had offered to share his tent with her to, "warm her up." So had Leliana; her sheltered upbringing had not prepared her for that one.

"We're stopping here for the night." She called out to Leliana and Alistair who had been walking at the head of the group, huddled together, each wrapped tightly in a thick cloak. She brought her hands up to her face and blew into them in an effort to warm them up. "We need to set up camp." The area seemed as good a place as any as they were going to get in these parts; tall pine trees scattered here and there, and a soft sheet of snow covering the ground. She could feel the gravel underneath when she walked.

She dropped her pack with a sigh of relief and turned to address the others, "Sten, go see if you can find a water source, but don't go too far. If you can't find anything, we'll just melt snow again." The bronze giant gave a curt nod, dropped his pack and went to fulfil his task.

"Morrigan," She turned her attention to the witch, "Go see if you can find us some food." It wasn't a simple task, due to their surroundings, but the witch was looking cagey and needed to get out of present company for a while. She gave a wicked smile in return and all but ran off into the trees. Something was definitely about to get tortured to death.

She delegated the rest of the tasks, finished her own and decided that it was now the perfect time to sort out the latest problem. Leliana, who was weirdly religious at the best of times, was trying to convert Morrigan to the Andrastian faith in time to see the Sacred Ashes.

"Leliana," she began, looking down to where the Bard was knelt in the snow setting up her tent. "I mean this in the nicest possible way –and with the utmost respect for your religious beliefs- but I really need to ask you to stop trying to convert Morrigan. She was raised to hate the Chantry and what they stand for, and more importantly, I really think she's close to setting someone on fire." And yeah, Morrigan would probably aim for Leliana, but irony would dictate that she hit Alistair. And Hayley would be damned if she was left to end the Blight on her own.

"I don't fear her." She _should_. The witch could set people on fire _with her mind_. "And the woman may be a vile fiend, but that does not mean she is undeserving of the Maker's love. The Maker speaks to one's heart; I am merely trying to help her listen."

"Emm, ok. That's...lovely, and everything, but I'm going to have to ask you to stop. It's nothing personal," Hayley rushed to reassure Leliana, "but Morrigan has the right to reject religious belief if she wants, and if you don't stop pushing her, she's going to reject it violently."

"The Maker has sent me to your side for a reason," Leliana tried to protest, the hood of her cloak had fallen down and she seemed even paler due to the cold, "and if during our journey I can help others embrace his love, as I have..."

"Did I hear you lovely ladies say there would be embracing of love?" Zevran asked, appearing _out of nowhere_, bumping Hayley with his hip, causing her to stumble to the side.

She caught her footing and narrowed her eyes at him in return. "Yes, you may have heard that, from where you were evidently _eavesdropping_. I highly doubt you'd be interested, though. We were talking about embracing the love of the Maker, of which you are lacking."

"Ah, yes. My faith is somewhat lacking, it is true. However, if either of you lovely ladies would like to help me reaffirm it, I am sure we could learn to embrace it together."

"Zevran! You cannot use belief in the Maker to try and seduce women!" Leliana admonished. "That's despicable!"

"Yes, yes. I am a bad man, you are not the first to notice. Feel free to take a moral stand and _punish_ me." he replied, grinning devilishly; causing Hayley to hit him on the back of the head, and question, "Don't you ever get tired of being a pervert?"

"You would think so, but alas no. I find myself always full of boundless supplies of energy. If it irks you however, I'm sure we can burn some of it off together."

"Zevran!"

"Maker, I don't know why I try with you people." Hayley said, sighing and rubbing tiredly at her eyes. "My point stands though; you want to discuss the Maker, talk to Alistair. Leave Morrigan alone. She's entitled to her own beliefs just as much as you are."

With that she stalked off to her own tent, with every intention of curling up in her blankets and sleeping until the food was ready. Zevran was on cooking duty tonight, and pervert he undoubtedly was, he had managed to cook up some surprisingly delicious food; even if Alistair did ensure that Zevran take a bite out of every bowl, because, "you can never be too careful." Hayley let him, if only to placate Alistair, and Zevran went along with it because it meant he got more food than everyone else.

She only got so far as the entrance of her tent when she saw Morrigan walking back through the trees, dragging a mutilated corpse by one of its three legs. The witch of course looked immaculate in her usual robes – having shown no outward reaction to the cold thus far- but she was still scowling at anything that dared to move in her presence.

Hayley watched disgusted, yet strangely fascinated, as Morrigan dragged what-ever-it-was over towards their small fire; a trail of blood and little pieces of meat being left in her wake. She was sooo going to feel guilty about releasing Morrigan on the local wildlife later, she just knew it.

"What in Andraste's name is that?" Alistair called out horrified, from where he was stacking firewood in a pile.

"Tis it not plain to see, you insipid buffoon? Clearly, it is a Doe." Morrigan replied haughtily, glaring challengingly at him. She dropped the leg and let the body come to rest. "I was told to bring back food, and food I have brought."

Hayley looked between the still glaring Morrigan and the wide eyed Alistair and started shaking her head rapidly at him; making a cutting gesture across her throat with her hand. This was not a fight he could win.

Alistair however, clearly did not need her to tell him that. He turned his head from the mangled pile of meat to Morrigan with a _please don't kill me _look on his face. "Yes. Em, of course. A Doe. I see it now!" Well he'd be the only one; Zevran was squinting at it with his head tilted slightly to the side, presumably trying to imagine how he was supposed to make it edible. Hayley was wondering that herself. "I'll just, build the fire up. So we can cook it." He didn't seem thrilled about eating it either, but he ducked down and started to throw wood on the fire anyway, if only to avoid the witch's gaze.

Morrigan gazed challengingly at the party members and seeing no opposition, held her head high and strode off to set up her own smaller camp a few metres away from their current one.

Zevran, taking the witch's departure as his cue, approached the corpse and nudged it gently with his boot; it gave out a moist squelch noise, and left a meaty residue on his foot. He looked up towards Hayley with a slightly confused expression. "So, I shall just prepare this, shall I?" Receiving a nod in confirmation he sighed, "For such a prudish people, you Fereldans are willing to put the strangest things in your mouths."

**Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is welcome as always.**

**Special thanks for the reviews so far go out to;**

**XShadowWarriorX**

**Murlyndsgirl**

**Trishata96**

**MaroonAngel of Darkness**

**Wyolake**

**Nye Terra**

**bergamot29**

**You guys rock!**

**-The Lieutenant Sarcasm**


	5. Questionable Skills

**...ok, so it's been a while. My bad. I just haven't been into DA fanfics for a while, I've been caught up in Twilight, but this one is slightly longer than the others to try and make up for the wait. I hope you all like this chapter, I think it helps clarify the relationship between Hayley and Zevran. Enjoy!**

Haley jolted upright, breathing hard. Highever was burning; _her home_ was burning. She scrunched up her eyes and buried her head on top of her knees. _It's over. That happened months ago. It's just a nightmare. _She repeated it over and over in her mind, but it didn't make the chronic pain in her heart hurt any less. It never hurt any less. She just got better at distracting herself. Dealing with the Blight, dealing with squabbling campmates, it was an excellent, if tiring distraction. There were times however when it wasn't enough, when the sight of a child, or the smell of ash, or the flicker of a flame, would bring her back to that night. And then there were nights when she'd fall asleep exhausted, only to awake in her own personal hell.

She reached over and grabbed her soft leather boots, dragging them tiredly over her feet. If she was going to be awake then she was going to be useful. She'd relieve either Zevran or Oghren from guard duty, whichever she came across first.

She stepped over a sleeping Rueben, grabbing her belt and daggers, attaching them over her tunic as she left her tent . The camp was quiet; eerily so. The tents were spaced out randomly around a smoldering fire; unless they were in known enemy territory, or it was too cold to forego, it was the guards duty to keep it going with the stack of wood that Alistair collected every evening.

She glanced around in search of the current guard only to see Orghren passed out beside the fire, dangerously close, mouth wide open and with what appeared to be a empty flagon clutched in a death grip in one hand. She sighed, annoyed. That answered her question on who to relieve. The dwarf wasn't adjusting all that well to the current situation. Sure he could kill Darkspawn with the best of them, but he still found the new world he'd been thrust into frightening and confusing; it didn't help that Zevran and Alistair had taken it upon themselves to wrongly educate him. She'd have to have harsh words with him tomorrow, she could sympathize with him but she could not afford to let him put the entire camp in danger. She trudged back towards her tent, ducked through the flap and grabbed her thick Doe skin blanket.

She made her way back towards the drunken dwarf and nudged him roughly with her boot. No response. She then hooked her boot under him and flipped him onto his stomach, further away from the fire. He didn't so much as stir, despite having just face planted into the rough ground, and the flagon was still safely in his grasp. She could admit she was a little impressed. She placed the blanket carefully over his prone form.

Good camp-mate duties for the night done, she settled herself on the ground just slightly out of the main camp, but close enough that she could keep an eye on both her comatose companion and Morrigan's tent. She had learned months ago that the witch was a light sleeper and it was best to avoid her camp once she had withdrawn to the comfort of her own tent. Hayley made sure that everyone knew that Morrigan's camp was to be watched as well at night. She hated the thought of something sneaking up on the witch at night while she was sleeping; she would not lose anyone else because she hadn't been observant enough.

"It must be so very traumatizing for our little friend." Zevran said, appearing out of the shadows just when she had pulled her right knee up under her chin, and shocking her out of her morose thoughts. Hand on her heart she glanced at him questioningly.

"Oghren." he clarified, pointing casually to where the dwarf was passed out in the middle of the camp. "To be cast out from the only world he has known into one so completely foreign. Where everyone is taller, and all the chairs are too big. Living in constant fear that a gust of wind will carry him off into the sky. The thought of it is enough to make any man drink into oblivion."

"Yes." she agreed, keeping her tone even. "However, the fact that you told him a gust of wind could come and sweep him into the sky didn't help."

"It was my duty as his companion to warn him of the dangers to his people. They are small, and easily swept away. That is why there are so few dwarfs here."

She regarded him with a slightly amused expression, "Yes, they've all been swept away by the wind." Oghren may be small, but he was also dense; she'd be more willing to try to lift Alistair, despite the fact he was over 2 feet taller than the dwarf.

"I feel worse for Alistair, truth be told. He's the one who has to share a tent with him." Hayley continued, tilting her head up to offer him a wan smile, though her eyes remained troubled.

"Very true. The smell alone could keep the darkspawn at bay. May I?" he asked, gesturing politely to the ground beside her.

Hayley nodded, offering him a true smile as he sat beside her. She was grateful for the company, his in particular she found could keep her mind too occupied to wander. He was her trusty elf, always appearing when she needed cheering up, and she had found herself relying more on him in the past few weeks.

"You dreamed of it again." It was a statement, not a question; if it had been the Archdemon that plagued her dreams then Alistair would have been tossing and turning as well.

"Yes." This was not the first night he had kept her company, and they both knew it would not be the last. "It's getting kind of ridiculous isn't it? You must be tired of staying up with me after them by now."

"I will never tire of sitting with a beautiful lady." he told her, offering her an honest smile, while Hayley tucked her other leg up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her knees. "However had you been ugly, I would have run away a long time ago."

"I'm always glad to hear that you find my company enjoyable, but I think we could have both done without my nightmares." And the reason behind them.

"Yes," he nodded seriously, "and I know that we have not known each other long, my warden, nor were the circumstances surrounding our meeting ideal, but you should know that when the time comes to kill that man, and it will come, that I will gladly stand with you."

"And if I should fall before then," she replied, turning her teary gaze upon him, "will you avenge them for me?" Zevran was the only one who could do it for her. He wasn't like Leliana and Alistair, who could understand her need for revenge but couldn't condone it. She also highly doubted the others would be in any state for murder should she die, it was looking to be a real possibility these days, but Zevran would soldier through for her.

"I would considerate it an honor mio Bella," he replied, holding her gaze seriously. "Though I will have to charge you in advance, in case such an event may occur. I am an assassin after all." There he was once again giving her that exaggerated smile to try and pull her out of her dark thoughts.

"Hmmm, I'm not so sure about that," she replied, playing along and feeling lighter than she had all night. "I have it on good authority that you're not a very good assassin, something about not actually killing your targets."

"It was a special case, I assure you. I'll have you know that I've killed many people, and you would be lucky to have an assassin as skilled as I!" They both knew she had been joking. Zevran was an excellent assassin; a fact that she knew well, seeing as he had taken to spending his free time teaching her the tricks of the trade.

"I'm sure you were a very good assassin Zev," she told him, patting his head condescendingly, "but if I'm going to pay for a service, I want the best. I'm afraid you just don't make that cut anymore."

"Well then, the answer is very clear. You shall simply not die. That way you won't have to employ my questionable assassin skills, and I won't have Alistair accusing me of masterminding your death, even if you meet your end by being eaten by that pesky Archdemon. It is a win win, yes?"_  
><em>

"Yes, that does seem to solve all our problems."

"Bene. Now that that is settled dear lady," he said, holding out his hand before pulling her to her feet. Hayley took the opportunity to wrap her right arm in his left, as he began a gentle walk. "Shall we make a quick circuit of this spectacular campsite of ours to ensure we are all not horribly murdered by darkspawn? Such a thing would ruin our plan of keeping you alive."

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